


The Ranch at Outer Space

by yekaterina



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: 90s Texas, F/F, katya is a single mother, no i can't/won't stop writing 90s AUs and butch trixie, something more fun and not as heavy as my other recently updated works, trixie is a rodeo clown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 04:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yekaterina/pseuds/yekaterina
Summary: “Oh, alright. I assumed your husband was waiting."“I don’t have a husband,” Katya says, smiling. Trixie's eyes light up and her fingers tense around the glass. For a second, Katya thinks she's going to drop it.





	The Ranch at Outer Space

**Author's Note:**

> i was writing this story last summer/this summer, finished this chapter at some point, completely forgot about it, and then today That video came out.... and i remembered this, so what the hell! here it is. short but sweet.
> 
> enjoy!

Katya just wanted to be home in time to catch the final episode of Dallas.

Instead, the odors of horses, bulls, smoke, and cheap beer cloud her senses as she stands outside of a dressing room with her four-year-old daughter Jessica on her hip. It's a warm day in early May, two days after her thirty-eighth birthday. Mosquitos have been chewing on her legs all night and she regrets wearing her daisy dukes. Her teased curls turned frizzy and she had to tie a bandana over her head to keep it all out of her face.

The argument on the other side of the closed door she’s standing beside is heating up with every second. The door’s chipping paint is red hot and appears to glow under all the neon lights strung up above the hallway she’s in. She’s tapping her cowgirl boot against the tile floor, which is covered in skid-marks of dirt and droplets of blood, randomly placed straws of hay.

Behind the scenes of the rodeo arena she's at is about as extraordinary as she was expecting. Loud, trashy country music is echoing down the hallway and all the other dressing rooms are either empty or open-doored and stuffed with drunken bull riders and their groupies that she couldn’t be less interested in.

She’s hardly interested in meeting the damn rodeo clown that’s stirring up a storm in his dressing room, but her daughter was captivated by his stupid antics in the arena and his stupider get-up, the ugly red Western shirt with a gigantic seventies collar and the cow print black and white chaps, the green straw hair underneath an oversized yellow plastic Stetson and his painted face, the bright red Rudolph nose in the center of it all.

Jessie had begged and begged for her to take her to meet the clown, Tricky-something, as the rodeo wrapped up. Katya doesn’t believe her daughter even paid attention to the reason they came at all, the Roy Rogers looking men that rode horses over and around barrels and rode bulls until the animals bucked the men off and sent them flying.

But now Jessie is complaining about how long she’s been covering her ears, something Katya told her to do after she heard the unfamiliar voice behind the door shouting the word "fuck" one too many times.

Katya is getting impatient too. She never thought in a million years that meeting a rodeo clown would be such a trial. Katya had flagged down the manager of the arena, Jinkx, at the bar with the cowboys so easily. And she had been so kind, so sure that Tricky, who Jinkx had referred to exclusively as Mattel, would be agreeable and would love to meet some fans.

On the contrary, Jinkx is shouting at Mattel and he is shouting back, their voices mixing into something indistinguishable except for when Mattel bellows out a real bad word Katya hopes Jessie can't hear.

All of a sudden the door bursts open and Jinkx is there, red-faced but grinning. No sign of the clown. The yelling is over, now the sound grating against her ears is a Morricone theme fuzzing out of a radio in the room. Jinkx is holding the door open and pinches Jessie’s cheek as Katya comes to stand in front of her.

“Thick skull, that one. And d-r-u-n-k,” Jinkx shakes her head before walking past Katya to take her place outside the dressing room. “She didn’t listen to a word I was saying, thinking I was trying to fire her. Wouldn’t shut up until I said a mother and child was waiting for her for the twelfth time! But everything’s sorted out. She’s in the bathroom, she’ll be out in a hot second.”

With that, Jinkx shuts the door behind her, making her jump and squeeze Jessie until the child giggles. She leaves Katya to stand dumb as she processes what she’s just heard, that Tricky Mattel is a drunken mess of a Woman. She can hear water running and she turns around to take in her surroundings, internally debating if she should run away.

The dressing room is cozy, square-shaped and burgundy-walled, with plush but worn down green carpeting. Framed vintage posters of old shows from the arena cover the walls. There’s a plastic crate of junk on the floor that looks like stuff Tricky uses for her act. The furnishings are a beaten-up leather couch to her right and a rolling bar cart in the corner to her left, stocked with miniature bottles of bourbon, whiskey, and vodka.

There’s a half-full rocks glass and an open bottle of Four Roses on top of the bar cart and Katya assumes that to be the culprit behind her drunken tirade. Save for the radio on a wood side table next to the couch and the sink still running, it is quiet. Katya eyes the cracked-open door leading to the bathroom and her grip on Jessie grows tighter as it begins to open wider.

The woman emerges through it in a series of easy steps, reveals herself to Katya slowly. Her hair is a deep brown color and sticks out in a mass of curls that fall just shy of her shoulders. All her make-up is gone, save for the almost scrubbed-off pink ring of lipstick around her mouth. Her skin looks so soft, tanned and freckled, however sweaty and streaked with dirt on her jaw and neck.

She’s wearing the same mud-caked red shirt she wore in the arena, but now unbuttoned completely, revealing her cream-colored sports bra and her belly button. Katya makes herself meet the woman’s eyes, which are tired but big and brown and red-rimmed. Her long eyelashes would make the prettiest cow jealous. She approaches Katya and Jessie so carefully, the way she approached the startled wild horses in the arena.

“Mommy, it’s the clown!” Jessie says. She starts wiggling in Katya’s arms and making grabby hands. Katya eyes her warily, but the woman continues to smile at her daughter. She smells somewhat more like cologne and men's deodorant than cigarettes and alcohol and Katya appreciates the gesture, however sloppy.

“Hi,” Katya says. She sets Jessie down to stand and bounce excitedly in front of the woman. “She wanted to see you.”

“She did?” The woman asks, dubiously, but sweetly, too. Katya's trying not to stare at her exposed chest, her skin that is flushed and sweaty. The woman suddenly takes hold of her shirt and keeps it closed as she crouches down to be at eye level with Jessie. “Hey there. I’m Trixie. What’s your name?”

“Jessica!” Her excitement remains bubbling over, but the child takes hold of her mother’s hand. Katya gives her a reassuring squeeze and smiles when Jessie gives one back. She likes the name Trixie, much better than what she misheard it as. She wonders if it is just a stage name. “Jessie, actually.”

“Why, that’s the most roh-day-oh name I’ve ever heard. You sure you’re not one of the cowboys I work with?” Trixie asks. She’s simultaneously putting on a show and doing her best to not slur her words together or teeter and totter and for that, Katya is grateful. Jessie giggles and shakes her head, her blonde waves of hair flying. “No?”

“No!” Jessie throws her hands down to her sides in a display of that childish irritation that fades as quickly as it comes. Katya whispers her name and pets her hair to calm her down. “We’ve never been here.”

“Well, shoot. Sorry I’m out of costume, Jessup,” The nickname keeps Jessie giggling and stomping her teal cowgirl boots. Trixie looks up at Katya, catching her off-guard. She had been staring at the shorter curls of hair around her ears and blushes when Trixie brings a hand up to play with them. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“She liked you more than any of the bull riders,” Katya says. She crosses her arms and catches Trixie’s eyes dropping down to her chest, the tight Lorrie Morgan crop top she’s wearing underneath her white pleather jacket with fringe that drips down her arms. She grins. "She just had to see you. Wouldn’t let us leave without popping by.”

“Is that right?” Trixie’s eyes are tracing over the gold embroidery swirling across her jacket. Katya’s about to ask Trixie if she likes it and if she likes the belly button piercing that her eyes are meandering down to before Jessie interrupts her.

“My mommy wanted to see you too.”

“Jessica,” Katya’s voice turns scolding for the first time. The twinkle growing in Trixie’s eyes tells Katya this misinformation falling into her big, strong hands is not going to bode well for her.

“Jessup, you see my box of toys over there? With the flowers and the red nose?” Trixie jerks her head towards the plastic bin on the floor and Jessie follows her line of sight and gives her a verbal confirmation. “Why don’t you go take it over to the couch and play with everything, huh? Give me and your mommy some room to chat.”

Jessie looks up at Katya for permission and goes along with the request when she nods yes. Trixie rises, towering over her, despite the high heels of Katya’s boots and Trixie’s barefootedness.

“I’m Katya,” She offers her hand and it is swallowed up by Trixie’s like she knew it’d be. “Thank you for letting us hang out here a moment. I heard the commotion. I didn't realize we were coming in at a bad time.”

“Nice to meet you, Katya,” Trixie holds her dainty hand in a tight bear-grip, almost enough to hurt. The thought of her wanting it to crosses her mind. “And I’m glad you two gave me a visit. Sorry I wasn’t too... Gracious, before you came in. My visitors are usually drunken fellas wanting to give me hell. You sure you’ve never been to the show before?”

“Nope,” Katya begins to wriggle her hand free and Trixie gets the idea, lets her go to slide her hands into her jean’s pockets. Katya can see the pudge of her belly hanging over her waistband and she wishes she’d button up her shirt so she wouldn’t think about stuffing her face into her soft stomach. "We’re celebrating. We saw one of the billboards y’all have put out, so.”

“Y'all out of towners?” Trixie asks.

“No, we’re from here. We live on the right side of the river," Katya says.

“That’s not too far from where everyone who works here lives, too. We live on the left of it.”

“Y’all live together?” Katya means it as a joke, but Trixie nods.

“Yes ma’am, it’s a communal type’a thing,” Her words slur together, she’s getting lazy as Jessie is preoccupied with flowers that squirt water. Her eyes widen, however, after the sentence floats out of her mouth. "Not a commune! But, uh. Me and some of the boys and girls live together on this big ol’ ranch. Rent’s split so many ways it doesn’t hang over our heads.”

“That sounds nice,” Katya says, instead of teasing her. She watches Trixie’s face redden and knows she might as well have poked fun at her outright.

“It’s an animal house. Not suitable for children,” Trixie jerks her head over to look at Jessie. The woman has a wide grin on her face but it melts down into a smirk as she sways her head back to face Katya, whose toes curl in her boots as Trixie’s eyes crawl down and up her body. “Or pretty little mamas.”

Katya swallows down a surprised scoff and they stand in silence for a couple of seconds. The radio is playing pure static now and Trixie walks past her and over to it, maintains eye contact as she turns the dial to a soul station. Al Green is halfway through crooning _Let’s Stay Together_.

Trixie walks past her again and over to the bar cart. She picks up the rocks glass and fills it with the bottle of Four Roses. Katya winces empathically as she knocks half of it back in one swig. She hears Trixie clear her throat.

“What are y’all celebrating?” Trixie asks over her shoulder. Katya leans to the side to see what she’s doing and lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of her putting the cap back on the bottle. Trixie turns around in time to see it and raises her thick eyebrows in question.

“My mommy got a premonition,” Jessie says. She’s rooting around the bin, most of its contents have been dumped out on the couch and the floor. Katya looks over at Trixie with apologetic eyes and begins to tell Jessie to clean up the mess, but Trixie twists up her face and waves in dismissal, kicks a joy buzzer ring back towards Jessie.

“Promotion,” Katya corrects the girl, gently. “I work as a floor nurse, or did, I mean. They just bumped me up to a charge.”

“Hey! Cheers to that,” Trixie raises her glass and finishes off the bourbon, swallowing hard. Her eyes drop to Katya’s hands on her hips and she smacks her forehead. “Shit, what kind’a host am I? Would you like a drink, Katya? And sit down, if you'd like.”

“No, thank you,” Katya doesn’t even bother to remind her not to swear in front of Jessie. “I’m driving. And we have to head out soon anyway.”

“Oh, alright. I assumed your husband was waiting."

“I don’t have a husband,” Katya says, smiling. Trixie's eyes light up and her fingers tense around the glass. For a second, Katya thinks she's going to drop it.

“My daddy’s a lesbian. Like my mommy.”

“Oh lord, Jessie,” Katya's head whips around to look at her. She had heard more of the final fight between Katya and her husband than she ever let on before, but this serves to confirm she heard the whole exchange. Jessie's looking back at her, fiddling with a rubber chicken. Katya has to laugh. She's proud of her, even— for not only remembering the word itself but understanding what it means. Sort of. “He’s not a—”

“But you are?” Trixie asks. Her voice is sincere, as are her eyes. If Katya had any doubts that Trixie was like her, they’re gone.

“Yes,” Katya says. She can’t tear her eyes away from Trixie but she manages eventually and steps over to the couch, scooping Jessie up in her arms and holding her on her hip again. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to us, Trixie. You really made my daughter’s night.”

“Anytime,” Trixie sounds both excited and sad. Katya wants to laugh, given Trixie's earlier behavior. She settles on sporting a pitying pout. Trixie stares down into her empty glass and runs a finger around inside of it. “I can get you a discount on tickets, drinks and... Food? If you’d like. It'd make it easier on you. So y’all can come around more often?"

“How do we go about doing that?” Katya asks, her tone encouraging. Trixie peeks up at her from underneath her eyelashes, like she hadn't expected her to bite. Katya finds the ping-ponging between overconfidence and awkwardness to be endearing. Trixie is both devilishly handsome and angelically cute. Katya doesn't want to ponder her age too much, her barely-there wrinkles versus Katya's deep-set crow's feet.

“If you leave Jinkx your name and number, she can put your name on a list, and—"

“Why don’t I just give it to you,” Katya adjusts Jessie in her grip as she steps closer and blows away a curl of hair that falls in her eyes. Trixie pulls back her arm behind herself to set her glass on the bar cart. “And you can pass it onto Jinkx.”

“Well, if you would’ve let me finish, I would’ve smoothly tacked that onto the end of my sentence.”

“I think you’re smooth,” Katya says. Jessie rests her head on Katya's shoulder, yawning quietly. It's long past her bedtime and she'll be carrying her out of the Jeep asleep. Katya rests her cheek against her daughter's head, feeling kind of worn-out herself. Little wrinkles form around Trixie's eyes as she looks down at them. “For a clown.”

“You know, normally I don’t befriend women who tease me over my profession,” Trixie says. Katya could laugh at her choice of wording, but she doesn't. It's sweet. She can't stop thinking about it, Trixie's sweetness, and how Katya's chatted up and even gone out with a few women since the divorce, but none of them had her sucked in this quick. She shakes her head, at Trixie, and at herself.

“Normally I don’t befriend women in your profession,” Katya counters. A grin spreads across Trixie's face, wide enough to be goofy. Her teeth are crooked, off-white, and she has a gold filling on her lower row. She laughs for the first time; low, murmuring giggles that has Katya biting the inside of her cheek. Trixie quiets at some point and steps away from Katya to dive her hands into the plastic bin Jessie's left on the couch.

She pulls out four long balloons and blows air into them, snapping Jessie out of her sleepy daze, if only for a minute. Jessie watches her work in wonder as Trixie makes her a cowboy hat out of the balloons. She places it on her head and Jessie squeals. She thanks Trixie profusely as she grabs at the balloon-brim, prompting Trixie to tell her to be careful as not to pop it.

Katya begins telling Trixie her phone number and watches her scramble to find a piece of paper and a pen. She stares at her ass in her tight, dirty Wranglers as she bends over the side table with the radio to scribble it down. Marvin Gaye is singing  _What's Going On_  now. Katya's eyes drift closed. She's going to have to get a coffee at the nearest gas station if she doesn't want to fall asleep at the wheel.

Katya knows exactly what she'd dream about. She opens her eyes in time to catch Trixie drawing a big heart by her name before she rises and moves to escort them out of the room.

“Be safe, y’all. And come back soon," Trixie opens the door for them and waves goodbye to Jessie, nods at Katya.

“We will," Katya says. She gives Trixie a wink. "Drop me a line, sometime.”


End file.
